The Monster
by HarryFado
Summary: It was really dark; the only thing visible was the light shining through the ajar door and everything that was heard was the grunting of pleasure that came from close. TRIGGER WARNING: Non-Con, not graphic but is there.


**The Monster**

It was really dark; the only thing visible was the light shining through the door that was ajar and everything that was heard was the grunting of pleasure that came from close. The physical pain was easy to handle, the emotional pain would be with me until the day I die. Nothing would be like before; nothing would make this situation any better.

Little by little, the pain became pleasure, tiny electric shocks that came from inside my body, turning the agony and despair I felt into repulsion.

My body betrayed me and began to respond to the unwanted stimuli, the grunting turned into a malicious laugh, and the repulsion that I felt vanished, loathing and hate dominating every emotion I was feeling at that moment.

"I hate you!" I whispered, letting the loathing and hate show through my choked voice.

The monster just laughed, his grunting coming back, increasing in volume; he was getting out of breath.

I dug my nails in any part of the monster I could reach, dirtying them with blood, trying to cause as much pain as possible, trying to make him stop. It was useless.

With a final grunt the monster stiffened.

The sound around me ceased, the monster was quiet, waiting for a reaction. He wasn't disappointed.

The tears rolled down my cheeks slowly, the sobbing was uncontrollable, the pain was almost unbearable and the panic grew at every long second that the monster was silent, and the monster smiled. His smile promised unceasing pain.

"See you tomorrow, Little Red." He said with his bright eyes full of mischief.

And I wished with everything I had that what happened was nothing but a nightmare.

* * *

><p>The morning passed by the way it usually does, when there was no risk of imminent death, slow and tedious. Scott spent the morning ignoring me to give more attention to Allison, who in turn was having several important conversations with Lydia about family jewelry, ex-boyfriends who are jerks and how salmon totally complimented Lydia's skin tone. Just as I heard the last bell, to go home, I felt him, his suffocating presence being felt by miles.<p>

Him, the monster.

After last night, the one in which he got into my room using my window like many people did before, I'd thought I would never see him again. That Scott would scent the weird smell and would shake me until I confessed to him. That someone, _anyone_, would notice that something was amiss. That his promise to come back the next day was a lie. I thought he said it to scare me. Apparently, I was wrong in all of my assumptions.

As if I was being chased by zombies, I ran towards my Jeep, got in, started it and got out of the parking lot as fast as I could, not caring much about anyone who was in my way. Within minutes I was close to the safest place I knew. Beacon Hills Police Station.

I barely got out of my Jeep, when I felt a hand with sharp nails holding my right arm and the monster's chest glued to my back. I should have known he would follow me here.

"Well, well, where are you going, Little Red?" I felt his warm breath hit my neck making me shiver with fear (disgust!).

I stayed quiet. He knew where I was going and why, it would do me no good starting a conversation to distract him. Distractions only made him get hornier; I learned that lesson the hard way last night.

"Come with me! And do not make one peep." demanded the monster.

He held my arm more firmly and pulled me until we were somewhere behind the station, where no one would walk by or see us.

As soon as we got to where he wanted, he hit my forehead on the brick wall in front of me, strong enough to make me dizzy and complacent, but not enough to seriously injure.

I lost my bearings for a few seconds, but it was time enough for the monster to get rid of my pants, and use my shirt to tight my hands together behind my back. And the monster was smirking, I could feel it, his anticipation almost palpable, and my despair began to be noticeable.

The monster grabbed me by the hair, pulled my head back, and whispered in my ear.

"What big eyes you have, Little Red. Is it to see me better?" the monster mocked.

In a second I was prepared to reply in the most sarcastic way that I could, in another second I was feeling such excruciating pain that I accidentally bit my lower lip hard enough to make it bleed. The metallic taste of blood in my mouth and the pain between my legs made me no longer able to think about anything else besides the pain I was feeling. The thrusts were fast and violent; the monster no longer wanted to play with its prey.

I can't say for how long we stood there, with me feeling pain and him causing it, but I could hear, and feel, his breathing getting faster, his movements getting quicker and then he stiffened, letting out a strong, loud, howl.

"I hope you're not looking for a hunter to help you, Little Red, nothing can save the boy in red now!" he said breathlessly.

And I knew he was right, I knew, because Scott didn't notice the weird scent and Lydia wouldn't help me and Jackson was in London and my dad would be killed if I even think about telling him. I was totally, completely, alone, and the monster found pleasure in that.

"See you soon!" he said, harshly.

And he was gone; leaving me alone to pick up the pieces of someone I could never be again. Perhaps, being werewolf food was not something as impossible as I once thought it was.

* * *

><p>"Stiles? Are you awake, Stiles?" I heard someone saying to me. Everything was fuzzy and confusing. Where was I? What happened?<p>

And then it hit me.

The monster. The police station. Pain, so much pain. God, it hurts. And then… nothing.

"Stiles, son, can you hear me? Can you open your eyes for me?" Said the person again. Then it clicked. It was my dad's voice. Rough and gentle at the same time. And so comforting. God, where am I?

I opened my eyes slowly and the first thing I saw was white; so much white. The hospital, then.

"Oh, thank Christ you're awake." I heard my father say.

"I'm okay, dad." I said, locking eyes with his. My voice sounded strange to my ears, almost like it was someone else's voice. It sounded so detached.

"No. I don't think you are, son." His voice sounded so sad and defeated. "Why didn't you tell me?" So sad and defeated. I hate the way his voice sounds when it is like this.

"What do you mean?" I asked weakly.

"You know exactly what I mean." He said firmly. He sounded so sure of himself that I knew instantly that someone told him about what happened. "I found you bleeding Stiles, behind the station, on the ground crying and panicking so hard that I had to call for help. You only stopped when we gave you a sedative." His voice sounded chocked, and so devastated. No one told him. He saw for himself. Oh God. "How long has it been happening? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I couldn't… I couldn't... He's going to kill… He's going to… No, no, no. I can't." He couldn't breathe. God, he couldn't breathe.

"Who's going to kill whom, Stiles?" He asked gently. I tried to calm down. Slow down my heart beat, my breathing.

"I can't… I can't tell you. If I… If I tell, he's going to kill you."

"He's not. I promise you he's not going to kill me." My dad said gently. I really wanted to believe him. But I couldn't.

"You don't know what he's capable of." I said, pleading with him to leave it be. But I knew him. He wouldn't.

"I'm sorry son. I can't do that. Someone is hurting you; I can't let it go like this."

"Yes, you can! Please, please, let it be."

"I'm sorry." He said to me.

And then I saw it. The glowing eyes. That horrible, horrible, glowing eyes. God, no, please, please no.

"I'm sorry to have to do this, Sheriff." The monster said, his voice dripping with insincerity. "But the boy is mine."

And then there was red. So much red. God, why was there so much red?

The pristine white walls weren't so white anymore.

"You're mine. Nothing anyone can do will take you from me. Not your dead father, not Melissa, not Scott. You. Are. Mine. To do as I please. Got it?"

And I heard it, then. The sound of my mind breaking in tiny pieces.

I was his.


End file.
